Wastelands Book I: Taming the Dead
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [AU] It is a world where the living kill the walking dead, and anything in between becomes a weapon until they lose their usefulness or their lives. This is the story of a girl who searches for the strongest weapon of them all to survive.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a six-book series, this first one focusing almost exclusively on Ruki and Renamon. (I won't spoil the others just yet :D). It's written for the 100 prompts, up to 100 MCs challenge with prompt #005 – hew, as well as for the Female Character Appreciation Challenge with the character Maniko Ruki (both challenges are at the Digimon Fanfiction Challenges Forum, the link to which is on my profile).

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**Wastelands  
Book I: Taming the Dead**

**_Chapter 1 _**

She walks in the dusty sand, rifle loosely in hand because to hold it taut means to admit fear and she's fearless. She has to be: the world is a brutal place, especially for a child and a female and she was both. But she could be brutal too: the scar on her hand and the gaping hole where a molar should be is proof of that. It's a fresh tooth she's lost, but an adult one. She won't be getting it back, but the incisors are the important ones, that tear through the leathery flesh of their sun-baked prey. The molars aren't used for much, so they're not an altogether bad loss.

Of course, your life is the most valuable thing: the thing worth losing everything else for. A weapon is the next thing: a gun with no bullets has more use than a spare arm with knuckles forming the only defence. The monsters mostly are too strong to be taken down by fists alone, no matter how weak they are in relative. But weapons, basic weapons, were in abundance.

She has her rifle, which is pretty good as far as the basic weapon goes, but she wants better. Everyone who aims to survive more than a few days on their own aim for better. Anyone who's serious about their life, who doesn't have some foolhardy dream to toss it all away for, aims for better. Because a basic weapon can kill the feeble prey and maim a slightly stronger one, but the ones that are worth the most cash are the ones who can crush the blade of a knife or a handgun in their strong claws.

And there's a lot of those. Ruki's seen a lot of those, though she's barely fought them. She can't; she makes her living off cheaper prey, easier prey. Prey that will fall to the handgun she'd had – and the rifle once she'd made enough for an upgrade. Getting an upgrade from the rifle isn't so easy though. Finding monsters are easy enough. Finding other humans wandering around the wasteland is easy enough as well – though she doesn't care for them. Often they're in the way: either trying to take the resources she had or the kill she aimed for, or begging for them.

When she'd been the one begging, most hadn't spared her a second glance. Scraps of food bad been the best she could get, but she'd quickly learnt. Learnt that fighting the monsters earned cash, but to fight them you needed something strong enough to help you win. For the weak ones, it's something that could pierce their skin. For the bigger ones, it's something stronger than even the strongest gun they knew. A different sort of weapon, and that's what she's searching for now.

She's strong; she's fought man and monster and come out on top. She's seen some of the strongest monsters in the desert plain and walked away from them without a single loss – because strength isn't just about how sharp you can shoot or throw but how well you can run away. That's the main thing, really. Even if you kill a monster you need to know how to run.

She spots one's shadow easily beyond the next dune, but she also spots its strength…and it's pretty weak. She's not keen to waste a bullet on it, and its sluggish movement is hardly worth a shot at sniper's range in any case. They do surprise, sometimes. Not very often; the monsters don't have much of a conscience, so you could usually count on them to be as they appear. Not humans though; humans were a different story, full of slippery little tricks. More often than not, they've got sharper fangs than the beasts.

She knives it instead, with a knife she'd stolen some years back from a Pipsi-sellar in the desert market. It's not a good knife; she's had to sharpen it many times and the blade's shrunk noticeably now, but it still does the job and it gave her a few mouthfuls of food when she'd nothing.

That first kill had been slow as well, but small and messy too. This one's just a large big lump, and she doesn't look forward to lugging it back to the nearest seller. She does it anyway; size counts for quite a bit on the market and effort is more than worth its reward. It's the small fast that are worth less than what it takes. Ones the old crones call "cat-like" – whatever a cat was supposed to be, and whatever degree of similarity "like" suggests.

She's seen the monsters though, and they're ones that most people let go. They're annoying, but their claws can barely cut through skin. For them in the dry desert, it doesn't do much: they've got tough skin anyway. She's never been to the tropics, but she hears their skin is soft and brown and stretchy like cooked meat, the kind sharp incisors can cut through in a bite.

She supposes that means the monsters rule the tropics. It'd be a Hunter's paradise if there was an easy way to get there – but who needed to, when monsters in plenitude existed in the deserts. Frankly, you're better off looking for a place void of deserts, where they could grow up in peace and providence, where they don't have to worry about surviving the night or catching kills before someone else swooped in for the prize. And that always happened in the busy times: more often humans fought other humans than the monsters they sought, and the monsters by far outnumbered them. There was no coordination, no teamwork. Everyone looks out for themselves and that's the way the world works.

When you're looking for an upgrade though, you do that in the quiet times. Because you can risk someone stealing a kill or two; you can only keep so much with you anyway before you have to sell it, and selling too much to fast lowers the value and the price. Everything's expensive; food's not so bad, especially the cheap stuff like the Pipsi meat. But weapons? Weapons are an arm and a leg…and while you can probably afford the arm, the leg might pose a problem. Ammunition especially – but relying on close-range weapons was a dangerous gambit. They've got a longer reach? You're pretty much dead.

Ruki plays smart. She got her hands on a gun as soon as she could. It wasn't a great one at first, but then again, she hadn't paid the price it demanded. Still, she managed and moved on to bigger kills, moved on from filling the trays with Pipsi meat that sold at twenty digidollars a piece. The rifle though, that she earned fair and square and it serves her well.

But she wants better. She _needs_ better. Not for small fry like the lump she heaves to a stall and dumps at the entrance while demanding her price, ready to bully her way to it like she mostly has to. Because everybody's greedy: no-body wants to let go of their money. It's handy being a Hunter and being good at it though. You have esteem. You have _recognition_. People know your face and your name and know to be a little weary of you.

Those with things to protect beyond their life take the safer and less satisfying route. Though that won't stop the monsters from ransacking their houses, from attacking them. They don't have a conscience: they don't care what gets in their way, what's in front of them. But neither does a Hunter: most of them have tasted human flesh and it's not the best thing in the world but it's also not the worst. Taste isn't so valuable a thing anymore: anyone does anything to save money, save effort. They're not noble warriors out slaughtering an army of evil. The monsters aren't even evil: they're just taking resources people need, and that's a feud that won't resolve.

Being a Hunter means you look out only for yourself. It means you kill things worth killing in a single shot and profit from the remains. It means that if you find a little gold band you cash it in for a little bonus and don't think about those stupid stories about people in love giving them to one another. It means you're not the best yet, and you can either step cautiously now and take the risk or go out and search for the evolution.

Ruki's doing the latter; she plays it safe while hunting but not with her life. She thinks she can handle the step-up, so she will; it's about time anyway, she thinks, and if she does find an advance weapon to suit her needs she's set for life…or until the weapon dies. _They_'_ve_ got minds of their own, those weapons. And yet their loyalty lies with the wielder and them alone. They're the perfect shield, the perfect sword. They're the only things that can mean you can sleep without a drop of fear at night because there's something to watch your stomach and your back.

But it's not easy finding them: monsters are too many even in the quiet times and on her return trip she leaves the monsters alone. They're small, with buzzing sounds that make her want to shoot them just to shut them out, but the ammunition is more precious to her and their little pincers will barely pierce her skin and leave nothing behind. The desert was responsible for that: the constant sand and dust made them quite resilient. They, the desert-dwellers, weren't soft like water. They were hard.

She spies a flash of yellow amongst the monsters and she smirks; monsters are white and black and grey, but never the colour of the sun and sand. That makes them even easier to spot. And the sand is beastly, but no beast. There's no wind, so it can't be moving on its own.

She can't make it out: just small flashes of yellow she could be imagining the drift of the sand, but she thinks she's not. She thinks she's found one of those things: the ones that can become the ultimate weapons. Not alive, like humans called themselves. Not dead and moving like they called the monsters – or dead and immobile and cooked like they called their food. They're somewhere in between and she still hasn't heard a good name for them – but names aren't so important now. She hasn't said hers for years because she hasn't met a single thing worth telling it to.

She might have to though, to win this thing's allegiance. Her rifle's ready now: it's not a casual scene anymore: it's a fight, and it's made more complicated by the buzzing beasts still around. But they're not lethal, and as long as they're not Ruki shuts them out. Her eyes are on the bigger prize now – and her rifle's on it too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wastelands  
Book I: Taming the Dead**

**_Chapter 2 _**

It's a yellow fox-like creature and Ruki allows a rare satisfied smirk to spread over her face. It is a little taller than her, nice and slim. The claws look sharp. And the speed is something she's already seen in the blur of yellow amidst the inadequately coloured sand. It'll be a challenge to catch at that speed but she's manage it. And, if anything, she's less likely to destroy her prize before she's netted it.

She hoists the back of the rifle over her shoulder. It's easier to control with one hand that way, and then she moves as well. The yellow fox has seen her; she knows. It stays still a moment, enough to flaunt or declare battle or both, and then it slips into the dunes again. Ruki isn't fast enough to be on its tail but she doesn't need to be. That is what weapons are for and a bullet from her gun will outpace her once she's got the other's movements down pat.

She aims the rifle and the fox moves. She baits. She watches. She plans. In her map, there's a map with lots of little pin holes on it and she puts one every time the fox moves. Prey is always predictable after all. Only humans have the element of unpredictability.

And it takes a bit but she's wasted only one bullet before she's sure she can see three steps ahead, and that's only because she wants to keep her quarry interested.

All that's left now is to decide where the second shot will hit.

She considers. She's too far to be attacked yet but she imagines the fox will come for her when it's clipped. There are no wings to ground and the tail serves more of a distraction than a cause. A paw, she decides then. Or a shoulder. She watches carefully, seeing how she runs. Straight back, shoulders back, arms flapping behind but tensed, ready to snap forward.

Once more. She feints. The fox sidesteps. It hasn't yet learned – or maybe it is the odd shot Ruki had thrown that has confused it. That is something it will learn under her tutelage. She won't have a weapon put her to shame in such a way but right now it's good she's predictable. It makes her easier to catch. If she was too predictable then it wouldn't be worth catching her, but she's not. She's made a fine film of sweat on her skin before she's ready to fire the second, real, shot.

She points her gun three paces ahead and shoots. The fox thinks the gun is aimed at it and moves. The bullet punches into its shoulder and it howls.

The smirk on Ruki's face spreads.

And her prediction for the next play is correct as well. The fox comes closer, angry and with arms bared and claws extended.

Ruki wishes her arm strength was stronger for a flash just so she can parry claw for blade and see the consequences – but that is why a weapon would be such a boon to her. And it is the same for any hunter. There's no point getting a weapon who can accomplish no more than her. She is a long ranged fighter and close-up, she only reaps the rewards. If she needs a weapon, she needs one suited for close range fighting but one that isn't a liability in the long run. And it can be coached to not be that liability. Its strength is something that will be more difficult to grasp but Ruki's gut feeling is that it's strong and her gut has been honed from growing up in this wastelands. It's rarely wrong.

She cocks the rifle and shoots. It's easy now. Even rushing towards her, the dodges are predictable and by the time it is close enough to strike her, it has four bullets: one in each shoulder, and one in each hip. And though it's struggling, it hasn't once stumbled. It's holding its head high and slowing, but not stumbling. And not surrendering.

Ruki's smirk is almost fully blown out at this stage. Until she is struck in the side of the head and she tumbles into the sand. Her lips immediately twist in anger: anger at herself for letting her body drop the guard like that, and anger at the fox for striking her. She has almost readied herself for a fatal shot before she stops herself. Still, her vision is shaky now and when she pulls herself from the dune she tastes blood and numbness on her lip as well.

It is not a strong punch. For some like her, it would have been, but some of the older, muscular, hunters could have punched like that and accomplished the same. Her jaw might be dislocated too but she's done that a few times. Her body knows not to tell her of the pain in a fight and it doesn't this time. and the want for blood vanishes as quickly as it came, but the bitterness remains. If that is all the power the creature can muster up, then it won't make a good weapon after all. She is wrong.

But then she meets the other's eyes. It stands a few feet back. Not quite in reach to strike again but close enough that a leaping step will close that flimsy gap. Its face has also twisted into some…semblance of emotion.

Which is impossible, Ruki scolds herself, because the creatures of the wastelands have no emotions. Not even the humans.

But if they did, she could think that this creature is disappointed in how easily she fell for its last strike.

'Very well,' Ruki says. Her voice is hoarse after the head-first dive into the sand but her curiosity is now piped. 'Show me what you have.'

There is a glint in its eyes along with a grimace of pain and Ruki blinks, having momentarily forgotten about the bullets buried into its joints. But this time she does not lose to distraction. She fires and catches a knee. The next strike coming misses her head and she lets it hit her shoulder. This time, she's taken its shoulder wounds into consideration. If, despite that, the force can force her arm out of the shoulder socket, then it is strong enough. It will still need training, but it will do and there's an advantage in speed that is rare to find with the wasteland's creatures. It's worth the deficit in power, and they can make it up. Once she's won, of course.

She feels the pop and this time her body can't deny her the pain. She bits into the sand-coated collar of her shirt and twists and thrusts the sharp point of her rival. It moves; it's read her motions this time and she's – a little happy, because it means she's a fast learner too.

It makes it worth the dislocated jaw and shoulder. It makes it worth the pain.

But there's still no if. The other paw tries to ram the rifle and the arm holding it into the ground but Ruki twists so the butt is facing the other knee and fires.

She is surprised at the other's stubbornness when it doesn't fall to the ground. But it stumbles. Finally.

Ruki might have been the first to show weakness but it was through a mistake. This is the first true revelation of the dust's direction. Though she's impressed it's taken six bullets to do it.

She's also relieved because she has no more. The rifle is no better than a piece of wood until she can restock and she can't do that in the middle of a fight. Still, she pretends she has ammunition as the fox struggles to its feet. 'Surrender?' she asks, pointing it dead heart.

The fox looks at her, then arches her chest and sends the sand around them kicking up.

Ruki is caught by surprise and stumbles back. There is something hard amongst the sand too, but it's hard to see. She doesn't miss the shadow attempting to take advantage of the veil though. She blocks with her rifle. She feels the alloy bend, but resist.

She kicks out. She misses but she hears a grunt of pain nonetheless. That pride again, she thinks. Whose's heard of a monster, weapon class or good for only the hunt, have pride? Or feel pain for that matter. Or decide they'd rather fight than live.

And who'd ever heard of a monster calling a human's bluff. They're not that intuitive. They're not that smart.

The sand settles quickly enough. Ruki coughs, her rifle still in her good arm and her clothes more roughed up than they've ever been after a fight. But she's grinning, honestly grinning. She's not afraid to die, because this monster doesn't want to kill her. Somehow, it wants her as much as she wants it. They're just testing the waters. She only has to win.

She aims the rifle again. She gets a look that she takes as exasperation in return, and she almost laugh. Who's heard of a monster showing that?

She's lucky she's right, really, but Ruki is usually right when it comes to things like this. Because what else can she trust but her instincts?

And if she'd failed, she would have run, before.

Not anymore. Now, the option for failure was gone.

The yellow fox blurs as it comes close. Its back arches again. That same attack? Ruki wonders. She ducks low, burrowing slightly into the sand for cover and pulling out her knife. The rifle's still within reach. She'll repair it, hopefully. Or she'll go back to the handgun. It'll be worth the trade-off for a weapon in return. Hunting one of the bigger fish will last her a decent amount of time.

The question still remains in how to hone a weapon. She knows you catch them young. She knows there's a bond formed or a high price paid – because if it's not her weapon, it's someone else's and they'll pay an arm and a leg for it alive rather than dead. But she thinks this is the bond. It's tugging at her. There's an understanding somewhere. And an acknowledgement.

_I've acknowledged your strength._

Now it just needs to acknowledge hers.

She twists and drives the knife home when the shadow passes above. Or so she tries. She misses her mark but hears an ugly shriek. When her knife is freed with fur and blood, she realises she's caught the tail somehow. A stroke of random luck. Catching the tail doesn't do her a whole lot of good at all.

Except it does. The fox doesn't attack again but rather drops to its knees in surrender and Ruki drags herself out of the sand, sheaths her knife and picks up her rifle once more. She wishes there was a clear line defining the outcome to such things. How can she be sure she won't be attacked when her back is turned? She can't, and she trusts her instincts but not to that extent. Not when there's no chance at all of escaping.

She's not got the equipment right now either, for a weapon. She hasn't got enough saved either. She hadn't been actively looking for a weapon – but here's a nice one that might do nicely for her.

She's spent but she'll need to catch something else today to sleep well tonight. So she gestures at the yellow fox to walk ahead. There's plenty of prey to be found after blood is spilt and she's sure the other can catch something small even with the wounds. It can still walk after all. And it does so without limping, without stumbling. She doesn't stumble or limp either. She is the victor and the one more deserving, this time, of pride.

Though it was certainly strange, not fighting to kill this one time.

Or not one time. She's never met a weapon potential to acknowledge her, but it's certainly not the first she's ever met. Though, she confesses to herself, it is the first where her prey walks free under the sun.

But it can't be helped. What she does know about weapons is that bodily dragging them is a good way of driving a wedge into their business relationship – a relationship they'd only just laid down like clay that hasn't yet set.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wastelands  
Book I: Taming the Dead**

**_Chapter 3_**

Now that the battle is over, the pair of them trudge slowly back to encampment. And Ruki cannot help but stare straight ahead. Its bad form, she knows. But how sure can she be that she's won? That this creature – this yellow fox that's more sly than the black and white creatures she hunts – won't turn on her in a brutal sneak attack. And such an attack would cause quite a bit of damage. She's already sore all over and with an arm she's having trouble moving. She's a sitting bit of pipsi meat if it decides to turn on her, and with a bunged up gun to boot.

She keeps her other hand discretely wrapped around the knife's hilt. Just in case. It makes her feel a little better anyway. What will make her feel the best is a nice treasure creature wandering up to her. Enough so she can get a few things she needs to get to sleep at night – now that she has something else to contend with.

Of course, she can just sell the potential weapon and make a small fortune…but she doesn't want to. She can go on living off hunting until she dies, but hunters without weapons die young. She doesn't plan to become legendary but she plans to live as long as she can. She's not going to get her brains splattered out because she sold the only thing that could've gotten her out of a jam.

It's a relatively safe corner of the desert for now, but that doesn't mean it can't change.

She was pretty young when it changed.

That was long after her father had run off. To play a hero or get himself killed. She doesn't know and her mother doesn't know either. She doesn't even remember him and she's got no mementoes either. Her mother on the other hand – she does remember her mother. Too eager for a life of luxury that didn't exist. Always wanting the easy jobs and saving up money – which wasn't a bad strategy, for the most part. And things had been pretty peaceful then too. But then stronger creatures started crawling in. Creatures too strong for knives and handguns and rifles. Creatures that needed weapons to be beaten by – but they'd sold the rare weapon they'd caught. Her mother too. There was nothing to defend them against the strongest and the worst.

By some miracle, a hunter with a weapon had come along and cleared the land. And the stench of those demons' rotting flesh was enough to stave away the strongest of them: a marker of what had befallen their arrogance. But the weaker still came. It was ignorance that was their flaw and the livelihood of those that remained. Ruki was alone and her mother's weapons had been lost with her. But she managed.

She's been managing.

But now there's a weapon that she's won over and who seems to have accepted her and there's no way she's giving it up even if it kills her to do it. And it might. She's been considering that with every step and working out what she needs to do and how and where she's going to get everything she needs –

First another hunt. And then rest. Walking's though but it needs doing and she only needs a little bit more money to afford the basics. And a lot of grovelling.

The fox growls suddenly and Ruki scans the area. She sees nothing for a moment, then a thin layer of sand kicked up on the distance. It's a minute or so before the creature has come close enough to strike and Ruki is impressed. The fox has good sensing skills. Which makes her wonder why they'd crossed paths to begin with.

_Were you watching me?_ she wonders silently, looking at the fox.

It'll be some months before they can have a proper conversation. That's lower down on the priority list. And she'll have to go to a city for that kind of stuff.

Probably the only reason they have the basics in shop is because of the tragedy that befell them eight years back. And it takes quite a bit out of the desert wastelands to be able to afford them.

But it's things like this: catching, hunting, paying, that keeps the cycle going.

Ruki clutches her knife tighter but doesn't unsheathe it. 'All yours,' she says instead.

She pretends it's like that because she wants to see the fox in combat, not because she probably can't fight a creature bigger than a pipsi right now. Not that it seems to matter. The fox is quick to jump into the fray.

Ruki counts the seconds as they exchange blows. Or, rather, the fox lands blows on the indescript creature and dodges the counter attacks. In her mind, she runs a simulation as well. Pretends her rifle's stocked on bullets and in working order – because it'll take quite a bit to manage with a knife and it's too big of a risk even on a new day. A handgun might do it though. Too bad bullets are expensive and she chooses to keep her rifle stocked up instead.

The fox's attacks could use some more driving force, she thinks critically. They're sharp and fast, but they don't do nearly as much damage as a bullet and that's leaving too much time for a counterattack. It's a slow creature. If it were faster the fox would've taken some hits by now. And once hits have been taken, the risk climbs. Not just for winning, but for getting home alive. The creatures that crawl the odour covered wastelands can still smell fresh blood.

At least it works out well for collecting some more cash.

The creature stumbles, then falls and the fox stands back. Ruki almost orders the fox to rip the creature's head off, then reconsiders. It's cleaner to cut and cleaner meat brings in more. As it is she's going to lose a little because of all the hits it took to take it down, but it'll still be enough. She thinks.

'Come on,' she says, and picks up the carrion. She stumbles under its weight but presses on, using her injured arm to lock it into place on her back. Her other hand's still on the blade, wiped clean in the sand but still there, as a safety lock. She still doesn't know how far trust is supposed to go. She's only met one other person with a weapon and he'd only told so many stories before he'd left, or died.

The fox walks ahead again, and Ruki trudges behind with her cargo until they arrive at the meat seller and dump it on the floor.

'You're messing up the merchandise,' he complains, giving it an appraising look.

'Already messed up,' said Ruki, attempting and failing to hide a wince. 'Had a stroke of unexpected luck.'

The meat seller looks behind her and whistles. 'Luck indeed,' he says. 'Not worried it'll bite your throat in your sleep?'

The fox snarls at him. Ruki wonders if it's taken insult, or if it's something else.

'I've got enough for a D-link,' she replies. It's not true, but at least he won't be tempted to lower the price to cover just the difference that way. She needs some for food too and she's ready to haggle the price if she needs to.

It turns out she does, though not because he called her bluff.

Still, she walks away with enough for a couple of days worth of pipsi meat and the price for a D-link.

And then she purchase the D-link. And that haggling winds up being unsuccessful because the seller knows that no matter how much he charges, anyone with a weapon is going to purchase one anyway. Or a second, if the first one breaks. And it happens, or so the shop keepers tell. Then again, they'd tell anything to get a higher price on their items.

Nevertheless, she purchases the D-link and meets the fox outside again. She offers it. Her other hand is still on the knife. An insurance policy. Her other hand's the strong one anyhow. She doesn't need much strength to keep something balanced and a knife's a stronger deterrent than a tight grip.

The weapon regards it but doesn't touch. 'It's a D-link,' she explains. 'It writes the connection between a hunter and their weapon. Helps us understand each other and become a single "embodiment" – ' She uses air quotes. ' – or something like that. Just touch the screen.'

The weapon nods like it understands and touches. Ruki wonders if maybe the weapon _does_ understand. Maybe better than her. Maybe not. If she'd grown up in one of the military facilities instead of out in the wild, maybe she'd have known more. But she didn't. She doesn't. Maybe the weapon knows more. Maybe not. Maybe it doesn't matter now. She's got a weapon and the D-link and a starting place. From her, she' be writing the books, in her own way, through limited knowledge and trial and error – and maybe even a journey.

The weapon lifts its finger. Ruki notices for the first time the scars on the paws. Scars that look painful, like they should be covered.

Then she casts the thought away. It's a silly thought in this day and age. In a desert where no-one cares how the others look like. Scars make people strong. It shows the hard work they've put in to living, and their success.

She touches the screen after the paw, and is surprised to feel its warmth. She waits a moment. Feels a prick. Withdraws her finger and finds no mark, no blood.

_Renamon…_

She blinks. The whisper dies like it was never there – except it was. The word's now burnt into the D-link. R-E-N-A-M-O-N.

'Renamon,' she repeats, then looks at the weapon. 'You have a name?'

_I do._

She blinks again. The lips move, but she'd heard no word from them before. Now she can. Though it is soft, barely audible in the silence. And it is a rare silence. Once the wind that's so common in the desert picks up again she'll lose that fragile voice.

She looks at the D-link resting on her palm and hears the wind, far away.

_I've sworn my allegiance to you, Ruki, daughter of Maniko and Rumiko…_

And with that, the wind swirls at their feet and around their heads and swallows the whispering voice, though the lips still move.

There's no point asking questions now though. She'll hear no answers. If there was a window of opportunity, she's lost it.

No, she reprimands herself. It'll just take focus. And trial and error, and training. And maybe something else as well.

She hadn't even known the D-link can bring out the voice in a weapon, or indeed that the weapon can talk. Though she knows weapons have wills of their own. Wills tamed by the D-links. Wills unleashed when a D-link broke, but a D-link could never be broken by the weapon it kept sealed.

It is a safeguard for the hunters, for the wielders. It was a sign of their contract: a contract not easily broken.

'Time to go,' she says. 'We'll do more tomorrow.'

The weapon nods. Ruki presses a button on the D-link and the weapon vanishes inside of it. The name appears again. R-E-N-A-M-O-N. And then the screen goes blank.

Ruki puts it in her pocket and counts the money she has remaining. Enough for food and one round of ammunition. Not for the doctor.

That's okay. She's dealt with worse than dislocated shoulders before. She can set it. And wrap up the scratches. It'll just take a little longer to heal without help.

But she'd sooner do without healing a non-fatal wound than not having ammunition. Even if she had a weapon inside her D-link now. Renamon would follow her instructions, especially now with the D-link. But it would still take a lot to know exactly _how_ to instruct, what the strengths and weaknesses are and what they need to train to fix, and also her maintenance. There is a lot to learn. A lot she doesn't know.

It's been a long time since Ruki hasn't known what to do, and it's an uncomfortable feeling, laying in her cot with the D-link under her pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wastelands  
Book I: Taming the Dead**

**_Chapter 4_**

She wakes up and it feels almost like a dream. But her battered body is screaming at her and the D-link is a lump under her pillow.

For the moment, she just blinks at the ceiling. Do weapons eat, she wonders? Is she supposed to do anything aside from train? Is she expected to hold conversations? Be a parent of a child or something like that?

She wishes for a moment there's a proper manual to be found, but there isn't. So she'll make do. Food maybe. She can ask about that – and with a weapon she'll be able to earn more and afford more, so it won't be a problem after a couple of days. And somehow, owning a D-link has made her more comfortable. The weapon isn't still an essentially wild thing, following her, or leading her. It's something she can call upon when needed, that she can train, and tame. Or perhaps she's already tamed. She only wishes the line was distinct, so that fear and distrust at the back of her mind can fade entirely…

She yawns and sits up. Breakfast first – she frowned. She'd had meat enough for breakfast, but only for herself. Which meant she'd have to go and buy some pipsi meat from the store or catch a fresh bite. A fresh bite is cheaper thanks to inflation and everyone needs every bit they can save for other things.

Which means breakfast will have to wait for a while.

She checks her weapons instead. Her knife is fine. She'd brought refills for her rifle yesterday too and the D-link blinks when she touches it. There's a clip on it; she attaches it to her belt – because there's no way she's leaving it to be picked up by someone else. And one never knows when they run into trouble – though hopefully it won't be for some years yet. Who knows. Maybe trouble won't come in her lifetime at all.

But that's not worth betting one's life on and she knows it. Be prepared or be dead when trouble strikes. That's how things work.

She slips outdoors and into the spread of wild desert land.

There's little wind this morning. Just enough to kick up a few dust clouds at her feet as she walks. It's a peaceful seen, really. Too peaceful. Too relaxing. It's so easy to fall into the lull of security and she struggles to keep her head above the wave. It won't do to be careless after all. It _never_ does to be careless. Isn't that a lesson she's learnt living alone for so long, and in this wasteland forever?

But she feels safe nonetheless.

Maybe it's the D-link she has, the yellow fox that is her weapon inside. Far more powerful and valuable than the rifle slung over her bad shoulder (so her good arm can do the attacking if need be) or the knife at her belt. Or maybe it's just the day. Some days are quiet.

She doesn't mind a quiet day. She doesn't think she's up for too many big monsters to hunt, though she will if they come her way. Not only because no-one ever turns up a free chance at some money, but because she simply can't allow it. If a monster gets past the hunters, they'll go for the villagers. The people who can't fight, can't forget themselves. And it will be a massacre.

During the day, it's the day hunters making a living and dealing with that. In the night, it's the night hunters. And she's never seen one, never met one, because they're in their houses and asleep by the time she comes out, but that's their prerogative. And hers. That's just the way things are.

In fact, usually there aren't enough of the big monsters to go around. Pipsi are harmless. Good for their meat and bad for nothing but an annoyance, and that's what they mostly see. That's what she's on the lookout for too. Though it's always a walk and a bit from the village before anything can be seen. They keep a tight net, even if the days go without seeing another human at all.

It's the blood they spilt. The power they exhibit. The monsters know hunters came for their meat and their blood and they either fight or flee – charge in or keep their distance. Usually, they keep their distance and test the waters. And that means the village can live on peacefully and the hunters can hunt relatively safely, remarking their territory day by day and leaving like that.

Ruki wonders what that means now that the balance of power has shifted in her favour. Maybe they'll have to travel farther because the safety net would be that much wider. Or maybe a hunter or two will wind up out of a job. That's not her concern either way. If they can't hunt, there's other things to do. Or they can find another colony. This one will be much safer with her yellow fox weapon. Safer still once she works out exactly what to do with it.

She finally spies some Pipsi and plots her course. It's slow, meandering, and it doesn't take her long at all to sneak up from behind and break the creature's neck. She goes a little further, searching for more and finds nothing. Shrugging, she makes her way back to the village and to her little stove.

When the meat is cooked, she releases Renamon from her D-link. She might as well use the name, she thinks. 'Food,' she says, offering a piece. It's in three – one's hanging out to dry in the sun so she can add it to her stores later. 'We'll need to find lunch too. I didn't want to go too far out without food in my belly.'

Renamon takes the piece of meat with a polite "thank you" which seems out of place in this day and age, and chews slowly. Ruki thinks it looks delicate, and once she's finished, she watches silently until Renamon is done as well. 'There's some water in the bag.' Ruki points. She's already drunk a cup while the meat was cooking and that's plenty in a desert life. Renamon pours herself a cup as well and sips at it.

_Like a human_, Ruki thinks. Except it's stronger than a human when it fights.

'Do you have a gender?' she asks curiously. Calling the weapon "it" strikes her as odd.

'We are not classified into genders,' Renamon replied. 'That is a human concept.'

"It" it is then, Ruki thinks.

'And how did you know my parents' names?'

'That information was given to me when I forged a connection with you,' Renamon replied.

Ruki glances at her D-link. 'That?'

'I do not know.' The fox folds her arms. 'Our connection existed before that, but it was intangible. That device has allowed us to understand each other.'

Understand words, perhaps, Ruki thinks. She's still not sure about other things.

'And you want to become stronger, right?'

Renamon nods.

'So do I.'

But how do they do such a thing?

Ruki sighs finally and stands up. 'Come on,' she says. 'Fighting's the only way we can go. And we need meat for later anyhow.'

They walk together. Renamon walks out of the D-link. Endurance training, company, or just so they can have an extra pair of eyes. Ruki doesn't ask, nor does she ask the other to go back. And Renamon simply keeps pace with the human.

They go far – farther than breakfast and the pipsi are far and in between and it is nearly dark and time for them to turn back before they find a more promising opponent. But it isn't much of a fight. Renamon only needs to strike once and the creature falls. Ruki drags it back. Renamon lets her, taking all the smaller Pipsi instead.

The first hour after nightfall is spent skinning the pipsi meat and drying it – all except two thirds of one which they have for dinner. And then they barter with a store-holder for some bits to trade for the larger creature. It's less than they want because apparently the other hunters have also had a little trouble.

But it's of little consequence until it's repeated the next day, and the day after when Ruki and Renamon drag home a miserable three pipsi between them and that's apparently better than some of the others. They meet in the dry evening outside the marketplace and try and work out what's gone wrong.

By then, everyone knows that she's got a creature weapon. And they see the D-link hanging off her pants.

And, of course, they're quick to point fingers.

'Just because you've got an extra hand, doesn't mean you can steal our prey,' someone snaps.

'I'm not stealing your prey,' Ruki replies in a similar tone, peeved. 'I'm barely catching enough to eat here.'

'Same here,' a few mumble. 'Maybe they're scared a potential got beat?''

'Doubt it,' another says. 'I've never seen a potential and I've been hunting for twenty years.' He's one of the people who came from another colony to help revitalise this one when it was totalled. One of the people thanks to who kids like Ruki could grow up where they were born. Even though it was a matter of more resources being available with less people around. At least back then…

'Makes you wonder how one got far enough for a hunter to catch…'

Ruki wonders too, now that the question has been raised. The meeting accomplishes nothing except to try hunting further the following day and she lies and waits for sleep in her home and just thinks. Why _is_ she the only one to come across a potential? And why has the prey they hunt suddenly dropped off after that? Is it related? Are the creatures really scared? Or have they moved away for some other reason?

Ruki wakes the next morning and there's no answer waiting for her. There's just the empty plains that make her feel uncomfortable now. And they'd been so safe just a few days ago.

She doesn't bother calling out Renamon out today. There's nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Nothing to do. She just walks on her own. Walks and walks and walks until she's passed the farthest she went yesterday and she's seen nothing still.

The bangs and bruises from catching Renamon have faded by now, and her shoulder only twinges a bit. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just uncomfortable. She moves her shoulder this way and that every now and then, holding her rifle in attack position just in case something sneaks up. She's hopeful. She's ready. But nothing comes.

And she just can't think _why_ there's nothing coming, when normally the monsters are torn between their own blood keeping them away and the blood of the humans in the village drawing them in.

She moves her shoulder again. Slings the rifle back over her shoulder and she doesn't need to wince when it slaps her back.

And she keeps on walking. There's got to be something to hunt further. Or answers. Or both of them. Or _something_ anyway. An opponent. A way to get stronger. A way to get _somewhere._ A way to keep on living – because if the hunt continues to dwindle like this, they're going to run out of food. And then, after that, what will happen? Will the other colonies bring food to them or are they in the same situation? Will they turn to each other for meat? To their own flesh?

She's sure the first place they'll look for meat when they run out is her newly acquired weapon. And she wonders what the end result of that situation will be. Because there's no way in hell they're taking something of hers without a fight. And she wonders if the others will be a team as well, or just individuals. Individuals are beatable. A team of more than two is not. Hunters don't fight teams. Aside from their creature weapons, they don't fight _in_ teams either.

And no-one here has a creature weapon sans her.

If they run out of food, it'll be an all-out scramble for the scraps.

And she can't help but wonder if this is how the tragedy from ten years ago began. With an empty horizon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wastelands Book I: Taming the Dead  
Chapter 5**

Finally, she sees something, and she is so weary at looking at nothing that she wonders at first if it's a mirage. But it isn't. It's not a monster either though. It's a vehicle.

She wonders if someone in the village has sent a message to a nearby city for supplies. That won't last long if it was the case. They'll run out of things to banter soon enough and it's the third of her dry days. Some of the other hunters have come home with empty hands for more than a week and she's heard a couple expecting a child have packed up and left. Whether they make it across the desert is a gamble but a pregnant woman can't survive on rations for very long so she supposes there wasn't much of a choice.

The survival-oriented part of her wonders why people bother trying to have kids in a resource-limited world, but the part looking at the wider picture realises that babies need to be born for their race, as a whole, to continue on. It's more than just survival of the fittest. It's making sure everything they don't die with them, that there'll be people left to live in the world, that life will continue on. It's making sure there's a greater meaning to life than just their own. It's a reason to not just kill everybody around because that means more resources for the one left behind.

And yet, Ruki is sure she's never seriously thought that, or seen anyone who has. Yet. But everyone's been on edge. She's sure something's going to change soon. Something's going to snap. Truthfully, she doesn't want to be anywhere near when it does – but at the same time, she doesn't want to flee across the desert to another place, even with Renamon by her side, unless there's no feasible way to survive otherwise. Not just because it's impossible to do anything but walk and practise sparring but because she's lived in this place for as long as she can remember and everything outside is a fairy tale. Everything she doesn't have, can't see, are fairy tales. Before Renamon, even weapons like her were fairy tales.

Vehicles, as rare as they were, weren't fairy tales because she's seen them before. And she knows what she's looking at now. Though not quite why.

She also doesn't know why it seems to be coming straight for her instead of taking the most direct route to the village. But she stops where she is and waits. She's careful, because she doesn't want to be run over by accident but the vehicle stops a decent distance away and a man gets out. There's a woman too, but she stays in the driver's seat and starts fiddling with equipment a great deal more complicated than the D-link on Ruki's belt.

'The village is that way.' Ruki points. There aren't many landmarks so it was kind of hard to miss the only thing on the horizon that wasn't just another sand dune, but one never knew.

'You've acquired a weapon,' the man returns, nodding at her belt. He's wearing sunglasses, which makes it impossible to guess the expression in his eyes, and his face is impassive. His clothes are weird as well. Clean. Fresh. As though they've never tasted sand before this.

'You came from the city,' she guesses. She wonders what someone from there is doing all the way out here.

The city is almost fairy tale like because she's never seen it or anyone from it.

The man nods sharply. 'We track monsters,' he explains shortly. His tone suggests he dislikes interruption. 'We've noticed that someone caught themselves a weapon and its presence has caused a shift in their distribution.'

'Brilliant,' she says coolly. They've already guessed as much, but what's there to do about it? Aside from the village throwing her out but they can't deny that, if monsters like the ones from ten years ago come, she's the only one with something that can protect them. 'Any suggestions?'

The man extends a palm. 'Hand your weapon over,' he orders. 'We can do appropriate modifications so it's not broadcasting so strongly, and then assign it to someone appropriate.'

Ruki frowns at that. 'Assign it? I don't think so. I caught it so it's mine. And why should I trust you?'

The man makes a noise of annoyance and pulls out a badge. Ruki stares at it. It looks fancy, the sort of thing that'd probably rust in all this sand, but it means nothing to her. 'So what?' she asks.

'This is why I hate retrievals in the wasteland,' the man mutters, turning around. 'Reika, deal with this.'

There's a laugh from inside the vehicle. 'Alright, you big grouch.' And the woman steps out.

Ruki is surprised to see red hair. It's uncommon, She's the only person she's ever seen with it. Even her mother was a blonde. Blond like the man still standing there, stony-faced.

It might be amusing if they weren't demanding she hand her weapon over. She doesn't care it's a weapon she's only had for a week and a bit. Weapons are necessities, and the stronger, the better. After getting a better one than she's ever had, she's not about to just hand it over to be snatched away.

'My name is Reika,' the lady said. 'This is Mitsuo, my – boss.' She stumbles on the word somehow, as though there's something less, or more, to their relationship. 'We're – as you guessed – from the city. We work for…ah, I suppose you won't know much about our city affairs.'

She doesn't, but she doesn't like this woman's tone any more than the man's. It's almost patronising. Like she's somehow inferior. Just because she's eternally covered in dust and doesn't live in the city.

But the woman is explaining other stuff now, so she has to listen.

'Each monster emits a certain frequency. We call it broadcasting, like radio waves.' There's only one radio in the village and Ruki's never bothered learning how it works. 'Our job is to monitor those frequencies and alert the appropriate people when something changes. For example, we can warn areas when there's a large swarm of powerful monsters approaching. We also track potentials and alter them so they can be used as weapons against these powerful monsters.'

'I suppose that's why we rarely see them,' Ruki deadpans. Some of it's over her head but she gets the feeling they're the sort of people used to controlling everything. Maybe it's not bad. Maybe it works in the city. They seem to think it works, anyhow. 'But I caught this one so it belongs to me now. And I'm not selling.'

The woman, Reika, gives her a sympathetic look. 'I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.'

Ruki knows she hasn't said it yet, but she sighs and introduces herself. It's not it matters, she tells herself. But she really dislikes being demanded to do something out of the ordinary. Especially by such strange people. 'I'm Ruki.'

'Ruki,' Reika repeats. 'Monitoring these frequencies, we also note any patterns. It's very common for weaker ones – I believe you call them Pipsi?' Ruki inclines her head. '- to gather near small villages, because the larger ones don't feel particularly threatened. But the frequency a weapon gives off makes them feel threatened, so they flee. Hence there have been very few to hunt this past week or so.'

Which, once one gets beneath the technicalities of that speech, makes a certain sort of sense.

'On the other hand,' Reika continues, 'larger monsters are the opposite. They tend towards cities because the frequency of weapons incites a sort of hunger in them. Like a butterfly tends to smoke – oh, I don't suppose you'll have seen any of those out here.'

Ruki hasn't. She's never even heard of a butterfly, but it sounds fragile.

'Or like how a person will gravitate towards food and water and shelter. Same sort of principle. It's a bit of an ongoing cycle because to hold them at bay, we need weapons, but the frequency the weapons emit draws more of them. So we've worked out a way to mask that frequency to an extent. In the city, it'll appear no different whether we have one more or less weapon. Out here where they're few and far between, they'll leave a lasting impression after a few days nonetheless. In other words, if you're away from a major city for long enough with a weapon by your side, the monsters _will_ eventually track you down.'

'Okay.' Ruki crossed her arms. 'I get that. Weapons are baits as much as they're weapons. But how much can one attract when there's a city full of them? We can use the meat.'

'The last person to say that saw an entire village devoured by those things,' the man snaps from the car.

Ruki looks at him. He is doing something with the machines and, just now, she realises her D-link is starting to vibrate. She stares at the screen. 'Reformatting…' And then it changes: 'Weapon approaching.'

The woman starts, staring up at the sky and all around, finally spotting something approaching from the air. It's a black speck initially, but then it grows. It looks bigger than any monster Ruki's ever seen. It'll take at least three adults to drag its carcass back. And she's never seen a flying monster either. She's never heard of one for that matter.

Yamaki spots the monster too and curses. 'It's one of those rebels.' He glares at Ruki. 'We don't have any more time to talk. Hand over your D-link. We'll arrange compensation over the comm –'

'No!' Ruki cries, just before the airborne monster swoops down, kicking sand everywhere. She presses the release button and suddenly Renamon is carrying her. The flying creature is following as well, faster than the yellow fox can run.

'We just want to talk!'

Ruki blinks. There's a human on top of the creature.

The weapon the D-link had picked up. Or Renamon had picked up.

She considers him. He holds up his hands. He's got a handgun and a knife strapped to his belt and a D-link as well. His clothes, unlike the two from before, are roughened with sand and wind and sweat.

In other words, trade the handgun for the rifle slung over her shoulder and they're pretty much evenly equipped.

'Talk about what?' she asks.

'Those two.' The boy jabs a finger towards the direction they came from. 'And their little utopia.'

'And I should believe you over them why?'

Still, on principle she's more likely to consider someone closer to home. Or who looks like they're closer to home. He's probably from another village, she thinks. Except he's got a weapon. Like her.

And it can't be impossible to have weapons in villages otherwise they wouldn't keep D-links in them.

But what that man said…

'It's not mutually exclusive.' The boy shrugs. 'You really can't stay for too long out of clustered areas like the city because you'll be attacked. And if you're in a populated place when you are…well…' He shrugs again. 'If you move away and leave a trail, the monsters will pass up the village for juicer meat, so to speak.'

Ruki stares at Renamon. 'The safe ones flee and the danger comes,' she sums up.

'Pretty much.' The boy grins. 'But what's life without danger? Not saying you should sacrifice your entire village or anything like that –'

Ruki glares but her mind is on the thought, not the sentiment. 'So what are my choices? Hand over the D-link, or get out of range of the village – and then what?'

'Join is.' The boy looks pleased for some bizarre reason. Ruki doesn't get it. 'Others who've caught weapons and been asked by the government – those city people – to hand it over. They've got their system: get weapons, modify them and train them up and then assign them to people who've been trained since birth. Elitist crap in my view. If you're strong enough to catch a weapon, you're strong enough to fight with them. But of course the city loses face if it's wild ones like us running the show. Capish?'

'Not in the least.' This guy's arrogant. Ruki will give him that, but it's too much information for such a little time. 'Why can't I just march into the city?'

'Because those two from before will lodge a file on you and you'll be arrested the moment you're spotted,' the boy replies. 'Assuming you make it there and the monsters don't catch you on your lonesome first. How long has it been since you caught that pretty fox of yours?'

Ruki doesn't see said fox blush a little as she thinks. 'Just over a week.'

The boy frowns suddenly. 'Without any sort of masking, you have fifteen days, tops. I'd give twelve just to be on the safe side.'

RUki frowns too and hurriedly counts. 'Ten days.' She breaths an internal sigh of relief. Two more days to think.

_To think about what,_ her mind asks. She's got four options. Ignore the messages received from two different groups of people, surrender her D-link (which may or may not get her anything of value in return), try her luck with the city or follow this boy.

Or five, she suppose. She can always try her luck with the monsters but she's practical, not suicidal.

And can she really risk the village turning into a bloodbath again? Besides, she has considered leaving. If the supply dries up it might become a necessity and this is just her getting a head start. Which narrows her options down to two. Because there's no guarantee things will improve in time. Who knows how long it'll take for the Pipsi to start coming back.

But leaving is still a big decision. For some people anyway. For her.

'It's not like you can't come back,' the boy points out. 'For visits, I mean. After we get rid of the monsters already coming, it'll take them a while to get their numbers back up, but not forever.'

'Fair point,' she acknowledges. 'Unless I'm being some prisoner or tossed to the dunes like bait.'

The boy laughs and the monster he's riding rumbles as well. 'Not monster tamers like us,' he says. 'Or wild ones as the city folks like to call us. Of course, if you go to the city on your lonesome, it's a bit of a different story.'

'And why should I trust you?' Ruki asks again.

'Uhh…the fact that I haven't asked Cyberdramon to gobble up your pretty fox there?'

Ruki regards the monster. It does have strong jaws and it's a fast flyer, but it's hardly agile. 'You'll have to catch Renamon first,' she deadpans.

The boy laughs again. 'Tough customer, huh. How about you hold on to my D-link then. As collateral. You know how these things work, right?'

'I know how I've been told to work,' she says, but she accepts the device. The boy's right in that there isn't much he can do right now to prove himself. 'I guess I'll check this…joint of yours out.'

She's still uncertain. She hates having to make decisions she's not entirely sure about but what else can she do? They're almost out of time and some chances just aren't worth taking.

The boy unclips his device and tosses it to her. She catches it and puts it on her belt, next to her own. It swings there: the collateral they've agreed upon. The boy doesn't seem concerned though. He's awfully trusting, considering she can crush it easily and send his monster out of control.

But he simply smiles and gestures at his monster to lead the way.

Ruki doesn't immediately follow. She turns to her own monster weapon instead. 'What do you think?'

'I think you're more likely to give this boy a chance,' Renamon's echoing voice responds. 'And, of the two, he has the better offer.'

Which about sums up what Ruki's feeling herself. She nods and they set off, Renamon dashing across the desert sand with Ruki safely in its arms.

This isn't a hunt. Maybe she's lost her job as a hunter too. Maybe that's not what these people do. Maybe she won't even stay with them – but it's a new chapter in life nonetheless.

* * *

**A/N:** And so book one ends. This is more a Ruki prelude which sets up the world as well, since Takato's is longer and dives deeper into conflicts that this fic touches upon, so it was easier on me to write and for readers to read the simpler story first (or I guess so :D Can't read readers' minds unfortunately – *looks at Duskmon*).

Next fic in the series is Meeting Guil, which features Takato as the main character. I won't be starting that anytime soon (2017 minimum) owing to all the other stuff I'm working on. I'm tacking the impossible task of shrinking my WIPs and challenges list.

And that's about it from me about this fic. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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